


Intervention

by KeeperofSeeds



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Co-workers, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Inspired By Tumblr, Intervention, Minor Injuries, Overworking, Pre-Rogue One, Pre-Star Wars: A New Hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-02 19:11:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10950918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeeperofSeeds/pseuds/KeeperofSeeds
Summary: Lord Vader is running himself ragged in service to the Empire. He will burn out if allowed to continue at this pace. Tarkin can't allow that to happen.ORawkward attempts at planning an intervention for your local Sith lord





	Intervention

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cadesama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadesama/gifts).



Governor Tarkin, newly named Grand Moff Tarkin, stood on the bridge of the starship Executrix and watched his associate. He did not often pay much mind to the people he worked with, other than seeing that they were doing their job with a certain level of competence, but Darth Vader had quickly become the exception to a number of his personal rules. The right hand of the Emperor, is what is whispered if one is polite, his pet attack dog, if one is not; is already infamous to Imperial and Rebel alike, and Tarkin knows Darth Vader better than the average gossip, better than all the common masses at least. He knows him as much as one _can_ know the mysterious masked man.

They have already worked together on numerous campaigns during this, the first years of the Empire, searching out dissenters and traitors and destroying them or, on rarer occasions, capturing them. 

He has seen Lord Vader's work first hand. He knows the man is more than just an attack dog. There lurks a fine strategic mind behind that death mask. That combined with the powers of that ancient order, the traitorous Jedi, had been a boon on many a mission. His fellow officers may scoff at the idea, dismissing it all as religious nonsense, but Tarkin had worked with enough Force users throughout his career to attest to its existence. And though the quality of Lord Vader's work had not in any way been slipping, and there were no obvious visual way to tell... Tarkin began to suspect that the man was struggling to keep up his zealous pace. 

Thus he had begun to watch more closely. He notices the slope of broad, armored shoulders. Notices the slower than usual tilt of that mask when he addressed Vader. Watches him leave a stumbling lieutenant be in the hanger bay after a mission of his own instead of throwing the man out of his path. Remembers numerous calls at unseemly hours, when he would be roused from his bed and find Lord Vader already present and waiting in the briefing room. It was if the man never slept.

Vader has always been reticent, a man not prone to idle chatter or empathy with his fellows, that much is obvious, even in the short time they've been acquainted, but this feels different, and many years in the service has taught Tarkin to trust his instincts. He begins to suspect that the man beneath the armor is burning himself out.

Now there are plenty of rumors circulating, rumors that even he cannot avoid overhearing, about the exact nature of the Emperor's right hand. The most popular is that the man isn't humanoid at all, but a machine. A droid constructed specially for the Emperor. One that follows his every command and never tires and never stops. But Tarkin has seem Lord Vader's tempter. No droid has ever taken offense in such a manner. No. There is a man buried there. A man so apparently devoted to their mission, that he would choose to ignore his own needs, even Tarkin suspects, to the point of collapse. 

That simply will not do.

Tarkin begins making plans to pull the man aside, to begin a...careful conversation about duty and personal responsibility and the good of the Empire...but all his plans are for naught when their next routine search mission  goes awry.

The ships sensor's pick up heat signatures on the moon of an insignificant water planet in the Outer Rim. The signature is large enough that it might have belonged to a pirate or smuggler camp, or it might be another of the rumored rebel bases they've been searching for. Hold over groups still in denial about the Empire's power, grasping at straws as they try to resist the new order of the galaxy.

Lord Vader takes a garrison of troopers down in a shuttle and leaves orders for the pilots to be on standby in case the base isn't as empty as it appears.  Tarkin stands on the bridge, watching the white clouds of the planet drift by while waiting for communication on the ground to be established. He doesn't have to wait long. Even with a new batch of recruits from the Academy on board, the ship had continued running efficiently.

"Communications established, sir." A technician calls out.

He clicks the blinking button on the panel to the left of him. "Lord Vader, do you read me?"

"Yes." The low rumbling voice says, made even more inhuman sounding over the comms system. "I have detected no life signs, but there may be retrievable information here still."

The line went silent again, and the technician stares, eyes darting between Tarkin and his board. One of new recruit no doubt, unused to Lord Vader and his flaunting of proper protocol. He will soon learn. Or else he will not last long on the Executrix. Neither he nor Vader tolerated ineptitude.

A storm trooper comes on the line. "Sir, we have completed a basic scan of the base. There are multiple servers intact, a cache of illegal weapons, mostly blasters and rocket launchers, and a large storage of spice."

"Bring the weapons and spice aboard to be cataloged. A smuggler's outpost is not our priority, unless Lord Vader thinks to find some hint of them dealing to rebel groups?

The sarcasm dripping from his words dries up when the trooper hesitantly responds, "Lord Vader is currently searching the servers and communication area for any information not properly erased." He pauses, before continuing, "It looks like the evacuation was unexpected, Sir. We may be able to download manifests or a list of frequented destinations."

Tarkin held back a sigh. "If he truly thinks it necessary."

Whatever the trooper's reply was going to be was cut off by the distant sound of shouting- "back, get back!" and then the clear sound of an explosion, before comms cut out.

The young technician at the station below turns wide, shocked eyes, towards him.

"Attempt to reconnect," Tarkin orders the boy, and calls out louder, "Alert the pilots and have a squadron on standby to assist Lord Vader and his team if we cannot re-establish communications."

It's unlikely that this is an ambush. Lord Vader would not make such a juvenile mistake. He's always been a better than average tactician, and even the possibility of useful data should not have distracted him to the extent that he would walk into a trap. The Force was useful at least for that.

Still…Tarkin pushed back a thread of worry. His theory about Vader, overworked to distraction, pulled at him. It seemed more and more likely, the longer he turned it over in his mind.

He would wait and see. The team still had time to re-establish their connection before he sent down the backup.

* * *

The technician shook his head "Try again."

Static noise and garbled shouting come through the comms in short bursts.

"I'm picking something up sir! I think I've got them!"

"-all channels, call-… come in Executrix, come in."

"We read you, soldier. What is your status?" Tarkin could feel the bridge holding its breath, waiting for the answer, preparing to launch an attack if need be.

"Booby trap, sir. We need…" he faded out again, and the technician furiously moved dials, adjusting the signal until it became clearer again. "-down, I repeat we do have men down."

"Do you require assistance in returning to the ship?"

Before the trooper could answer this query, Vader himself came back on comms, the distinctive bass rumble of his voice echoing out louder through the speakers than the soldier's.

"No, Tarkin. We have no need of assistance. The damage was minor."

Tarkin knew better than to bicker over comms, in full view of the bridge crew. He managed to tamp down his immediate urge to berate the man for his foolish, useless risk taking, and instead ground his teeth together and replied, "we shall see, Lord Vader."

He returned to addressing the trooper. "Make sure your team brings the weapons back," Tarking ordered, "the spice and any other items are non essential. Do not risk any more men. Medical team will be on standby for your return. "

A static filled "yes sir" is his answer.

* * *

He meets the team in the hanger bay. He does not pace. He stands ridged in the cool atmosphere of the entryway, lips thinning as he tamps down his irritation at the whole affair.

The transport glides into the hanger bay and sets down. Movement erupts as the medical team rushes in, and white uniforms begin to pour out of the ship. Tarkin waits.

Finally, after the first handful of troopers are carried or helped off to the medical bay, and the rest either begin unloading the found contraband or sit and wait their turn with their fellows to watch over them, Vader strides heavily down the ship's ramp. From a distance it would be easy to assume nothing is wrong. His cape billows out behind him, dramatic as always. His steps are not hampered. However, as he comes closer, stopping in front of Tarkin, who is blocking his path, the damage becomes more apparent. 

The left side of his body armor is covered with ash and plastiod fragments from the console exploding in his face. His left arm seems to have taken the brunt of the blast. The forearm area completely tattered and torn, the black glove hanging half on the silver mechanical limb by hope or the Force alone. Minor damage he'd said. Vader stands there, still smoking for stars sake, and tilts his head.

"Tarkin," he inquires, "is there a problem?"

"Lord Vader," he grits out. "With me."

"Surely my report can wait Admiral."

Tarkin doesn't answer, just turns and walks down the corridor a short ways, where he waits expectantly at an door of an empty meeting room. The heavy gait of Vader follows slower behind him. He waits the second it takes for the door to slid close behind Vader's cape before turning on him and grabbing Vader's uninjured arm by the bicep and planting himself firmly before the giant man. He cannot put off this talk any longer. This close he can see the long, thin crack in the mask's left eye lens, the small chips that have been gorged in the line of the cheek and jaw where Vader must have turned his head away from the blast.

"Lord Vader," he states, looking into the cracked lens and hopefully into the man's eyes. "This has gone on for long enough! The Empire does not need a martyr. It needs you, able to stand at the Emperor's side. It needs you _here_ , doing his bidding. Assisting me in this campaign. This situation was not one you were required to personally head. You put yourself in needless danger for the smallest possibility of data that might be helpful in hunting down these rebels.

Vader stays silent, and he reaches up with his other hand to hold the man by his shoulders, and dares to add his final point. "You will burn yourself out if what I suspect is true."

It's only because he is so close, and still holding tight to those broad shoulders, that he feels the minute flinch at his words.

Good, he thinks. Maybe something is getting through. Maybe he's not about to the thrown backwards into the bulkhead and have his neck snapped. He doubts even his standing with the Emperor would shield him now should he push too far.

The only sound that fills the room for a long moment is Lord Vader's steady mechanized breathing. Tarkin does not back down. He has committed to this course and will see it through.

"What…exactly is it…that you suspect, Governor?"

Ordinarily, he might take this question as an attempt to trap him, but the words themselves sound as if they are being drawn out with great reluctance. Tarkin mentally scoffs. He will not let pride be the downfall of the Emperor's right hand. There is too much at stake for that. Like it or not, too much relies on Lord Vader still in this, the beginnings of the Empire. He tells the man just that.

"Like it or not Lord Vader, but you are integral in this, the beginning of the Empire. The Emperor himself relies upon you to carry out his orders, outside the Naval chain of command. He gives you free reign in many areas, and though your zeal is commendable…" he pauses, stepping back, looking away and searching for the words. He does not know if he is giving Lord Vader space, or himself. Not that space between them would help much should Vader choose to lash out. This is dangerous ground he is treading. But he has come this far, better to press on. He turns back, facing Vader head on.

 "You will be of no good to the Emperor if you burn yourself out. Even the foot soldiers are granted leave for recovery. Running them raged only wastes valuable resources, and our campaign would suffer as a result."

He consciously relaxes from the parade rest stance he'd fallen into, trying to portray his next words as a request, rather than an order. "Take a break My Lord. Surely you have a base or a lodging to return to. Go. Let me relay the information to the Emperor. "

Vader does not reply, but his helmet seems to fall forward.

Tarkin waits. He is a patient man.

Finally Vader relents, and gives a single nod.

"See my TIE fighter made ready. I will go shortly. The Emperor will know how to reach me if need be or," he pauses, "if a situation arises here."

Tarkin nodded. "Do you require assistance?" he asked, eyes darting to the mangled prosthetic visible beneath the torn armor.

"No. I will see to repairs myself."

Repairs? Tarkin thought? He talked as if he were a malfunctioning droid. He could see easier now how such rumors might have begun. Before his mind could wander too far down that line of thought Vader spoke again.  

"I…thank you for your diligence in this matter Tarkin. I look forward to resuming our work upon my return."

Tarkin straightened and gave a solemn nod of acknowledgment.

"I do as well Lord Vader."

It is not quite trust. Nor is it anything close to friendship. That is not the way of men like them, but there is respect. Respect for his word, and for his position as one in the Emperor's inner circle. Not many he assumed would confront Lord Vader in this matter either, but he had. 

 

As Vader strode away, his cape trailing behind him, Tarkin let his shoulders relax a fraction of an centimeter.

That had gone far better than he had expected. Dealing with stubborn Force users was not a skill he'd have ever expected to be proficient at. All his years of service during the Clone War were certainly coming in handy when dealing with Lord Vader. He felt a twinge of something almost like déjà vu at the memory of working alongside the Jedi, but quickly dismissed the thought. Lord Vader would no doubt only be insulted by the comparison, and having successfully managed this interaction, he wasn't keen to instigate another round of drama.

That could wait until the next officer's meeting. Gotti never had learned not to antagonize Lord Vader.

**Author's Note:**

> The Tumblr post that started me on this whole idea was a bunch of people bouncing ideas about Vader's "Castle of Self-Hatred" in Rogue One and the circumstances of it being built and also trying to map out where Vader sleeps/stays as a home base. One line from cadesama stuck out to me in particular: [I still kind of like the idea that Vader had a year or two of never sleeping and just living on ships and on missions all the time and Tarkin took him by his very large shoulders and had An Intervention to make him nest somewhere and take a bacta nap.)](http://darthnickels.tumblr.com/post/154645310470/the-location-seems-like-something-the-emperor#notes) and whoops a fic developed. 
> 
> Gifted the fic to you [cadesama](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cadesama/pseuds/cadesama) since your comment was the one to inspired this. 
> 
> (additional A/N: I haven't gotten around to reading the Tarkin novel yet. BUT I've heard it's implied that Tarkin does know or at least suspect Anakin Skywalker is the one under the Vader mask. Either way that was in the back of my mind while writing but I didn't want to explore it more until I read the book)


End file.
